Stress Relief
by KalicoFox
Summary: Because I'm vindictive when I'm in a bad mood, bad things happen to characters I like. Usually the character I'm tormenting is Harry Potter. This is a repository for those stories. Generally no longer than a few pages. Fairly non-graphic.
1. Momma Harry

Harry swore violently, flinging himself facedown onto his bed in Gryffindor tower. It was barely two days after the third task, and already the whispers and staring were at an all time peak. Granted, that might be because the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang were still at Hogwarts, but the point remained. He was sick of it!

"Oh Harry..." a familiar voice sighed, and the mattress dipped as Hermione sat down on the edge.

"They keep staring." Harry muttered into his pillow. "And whispering. It's like they think I don't have ears or something."

"Ignore them." Hermione advised, and Harry snarled wordlessly.

"Just once," he bit out savagely, "I'd like to know what it'd be like to be _normal._"

For a moment, Hermione was silent, then, "I think I might have something to help you with that... wait here a second."

And like that, she was gone.

When Hermione returned, she found Harry sitting up, his legs crossed in front of him as he leaned back against the headboard.

"This," Hermione said, brandishing a bottle of thick, goopy stuff in his direction, "Is some of the last of the polyjuice from last year. It's still good."

"Wait, you mean there was some _left?_" Harry asked, incredulous.

"Of course there was!" Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "We made an _entire cauldron full._ You didn't seriously think that that was only three doses did you?"

Harry nodded sheepishly. "Yeah, actually, I kind of did."

Hermione looked put out. "Well it wasn't. There was enough left for another four doses, and then a bit extra. I had to get rid of that bit though, because I really don't want to know what happens if you don't take a full dose. One feline experience was enough experimentation for me."

"Right." Harry drawled, and looked at the bottle in Hermione's hands. "So what's that got anything to do with me, then?"

This time Hermione rolled her eyes so hard Harry though he heard a crack. "Honestly, Harry. Look. I have a bottle of polyjuice. It's the weekend. You take it, with one of my hairs, and go see what normal is like. I'll just hang about in my dorm and do a bit of reading. Maybe revise a bit."

Harry was flabbergasted. "What!?" he squeaked, and flushed lightly, cleared his throat, and tried again. "You want me to go around as a _girl!?_"

Again with the eye rolling.

"_Yes._" Hermione said, her tone one of long suffering patience. "Really, it's not that big of a deal, and you and Ron are pretty much my only friends, so if you want to go for a bit of a wander on your own, no one's going to think twice. They'll just think the bookworm's gone to the library again."

Harry gulped, eyeing the bottle of polyjuice as though it were a dangerous animal, getting ready to pounce.

"Ah... I don't think-"

"Oh for Merlin's sake!" Hermione cried, then reached up, plucked one of her own hairs, pulled the cork out of the bottle, and dropped the hair in.

"There, now it's primed. Drink it."

Nervously, Harry took the bottle and raised it to his lips, then lowered it again. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" he asked, feeling uncharacteristically nervous.

"It'll be fine." Hermione said dismissively, "I've used the other three doses over the school year just fine."

"Who were _you_ going around as?" Harry asked curiously, leaning forward eagerly and Hermione huffed slightly.

"I made a deal with one of the third year Ravenclaws to get into their common room. They've got some books in there that I haven't even seen in the library."

"Oh."

"Drink." Hermione commanded, pointing imperiously at the bottle, and Harry made an anticipatory face and downed the Polyjuice.

Unlike the last time he'd taken it, while the potion still didn't taste _good_, it didn't make him gag either. In fact, it tasted a great deal like a cross between overcooked cherry cobbler and the way freshly turned dirt smelled.

Altogether, he mused, doubling over as the full body cramps hit, not a horrible taste.

A few moments later, Harrymione straightened up and looked blearily at Hermione, squinting for a moment before remembering his glasses and taking them off, tossing them onto the bedside table.

"Wow." Hermione murmured, then, louder, "Stand up and turn around."

Nonplussed, Harry did.

"Oh."

Hermione sounded disappointed.

"What?" Harry asked, and winced at the sound of his voice, turning back around carefully.

"Oh, I just hadn't realized how I looked from behind is all."

"Oh."

"Hang on a mo and I'll go get you some of my clothes, then you can go see what 'normal' is like." Hermione slid off the bed and headed for the door, leaving Harry to himself.

When she returned, she almost laughed at the furious blush on Harry's face, the awkward way he held his arms away from his body telling her exactly what he'd realized in her absence.

"Right," She declared, choosing to ignore his embarrassment, "All I brought was a robe. You can wear your own underthings."

His stammered assent brought a grin to her face, and she stifled it. No sense in making the poor boy even more embarrassed.

Thirty minutes later, Harry was wandering the corridors, relishing the general anonymity that being Hermione brought him. No one was shooting him odd looks, whispers weren't following him like a lost puppy, and best of all, even the Slytherins were ignoring him for the most part! Apparently the main draw in taunting Hermione lay in his and Ron's reaction.

Making a mental note to ask Hermione about this later, Harry continued his wandering, taking the opportunity to really look at the tapestries and paintings that filled the castle. So absorbed was he that he never noticed when he wandered into a slightly less used part of the castle. He never even noticed the spell that hit him from behind until it was already too late.

"Miss Granger? Miss Granger!"

Harry groaned and cracked open one bleary eye, hoping he could see who was shouting and hopefully tell them to lay off.

"Thank goodness."

Poppy Pomfrey's relieved face swam into view above him, and he frowned.

"Madame Pomfrey?" He croaked, and winced. When did his throat get so sore?

The Mediwitch gently helped him sit up, propping pillows up behind him before offering him a glass of water.

"Tiny sips Miss Granger. Your throat is slightly damaged still."

Obediently, Harry took a couple of small sips. How long had he been out? Not too long, obviously, since the polyjuice still hadn't worn off.

"What happened?" He asked, and suppressed a wince at the pain that stabbed through his voice box.

Madame Pomfrey hesitated, looking across the room with a helpless expression on her face.

"We were hoping you could tell us, Miss Granger."

Harry followed Madame Pomfrey's gaze, and paled slightly. Dumbledore, Snape, and McGonagall were all looking at him. Dumbledore murmured something to Snape, who nodded once and left. Dumbledore and McGonagall both made their way to his bedside.

Harry wracked his brain, trying desperately to recall what had led to his apparent unconsciousness and stay in the hospital wing.

"I was... looking at the paintings." He said slowly, "And the wall hangings. I hardly ever get a chance. Then..." he struggled for a few moments, then, "I don't remember after that. Did something happen? Did another Death Eater get inside the castle?"

Something in Dumbledore's gaze sharpened, even as McGonagall's lips thinned even more.

"No, Miss Granger. No Death Eater." She said crisply. "However, there was an interruption during the staff meeting. A rarely used alarm was triggered. We found you in an unused classroom on the seventh floor." She hesitated for a moment, glancing between Dumbledore and Pomfrey before visibly steeling herself. "Your robes were in disarray, and there was some evidence of a struggle."

"I must ask you, Miss Granger," Madame Pomfrey broke in, a slight hitch in her voice, "Are you a virgin?"

Harry stared at her for a moment, disbelieving.

"What kind of question is that?" He asked shrilly, his face turning red with embarrassment. "Of course I'm a bloody virgin!"

"Headma-"

McGonagall was cut off by the doors to the Hospital Wing slamming open and Snape storming in, dragging Hermione with him by one arm.

Ignoring her protests, he pulled her all the way over to the end of Harry's bed, and stood her there, glowering down at the two identical girls with a face like a thundercloud.

Dumbledore looked impossibly old, and McGonagall's face was so pale that she could easily have passed for the newest Hogwarts ghost.

Madame Pomfrey looked back and forth between the Harrymione in the bed, and the Hermione standing at the end of it, looking terrified.

"I think one of you had better explain." Pomfrey said faintly.

Harry instantly launched into the story, twisting the story slightly to make it sound like it'd been his idea the whole time. He couldn't let Hermione take the fall for this one, they'd expel her for sure.

Just as he was finishing his narrative, he felt the familiar twisty cramping that accompanied Polyjuice wearing off, and doubled over, glad for an excuse to stop looking at McGonagall's horrified face, and Dumbledore's inexplicably sad one.

When he straightened up again, Madame Pomfrey moaned slightly, deep in her throat, and Snape's fists clenched compulsively.

"What?!" Harry demanded, his eyes flickering wildly from one adult to the next, "What's wrong?"

Hermione looked as though she were about to faint, and Snape's expression was unreadable as he looked square at Harry.

"Congratulations, Miss Potter." He said icily. "You are to be a mother."

"WHAT!?"

The shriek that tore from Harry's throat made tears spring to his eyes as he clutched at it, fiery needles of pain stabbing through his larynx. In the part of his mind not overwhelmed with shock, he noted that his voice was slightly different. Higher pitched, maybe, though that might have been shock.

"I think," Dumbledore said heavily, levering himself out of the chair next to Harry's bedside, "that it would be best if we leave Mister Potter for now. Poppy, if you would be so good as to fully explain...?"

Madame Pomfrey nodded faintly, pressing the glass of water back into Harry's hands. He sipped it gratefully, wincing as the icy water soothed the rawness of his throat.

Hermione was staring at him nervously, glancing between him, and the retreating professors, before obviously coming to a decision.

"Professor Dumbledore!" She called, running after them, "May I speak to you for a minute?"

Harry watched Hermione speak quietly with Dumbledore for a moment, then the doors to the Hospital Wing swung shut, and he turned to Madame Pomfrey.

"Madame Pomfrey, Snape was just joking, right? I'm not really..." he couldn't bring himself to say the word, and Madame Pomfrey's face was drawn as she shook her head.

"Severus would know better than anyone just what Polyjuice can and cannot do." She said, "And your... condition was proven when the polyjuice wore off."

Harry seized on that point. "Right! It wore off, so I'm back to being a boy. that means I _can't _be pregnant!"

Poppy hesitated for a moment, then conjured up a mirror and held it out to him.

"It wore off, yes." She said quietly, "But you are _not_ back to your male self."

Slowly, Harry took the mirror and turned to look into it.

"Normally it would take hours, or even days before a pregnancy is confirmed," Madame Pomfrey said quietly as Harry's eyes roamed across the mirror, "However, properly brewed polyjuice potion has a failsafe designed into it. If the reversion could threaten the life of the drinker, then it reverts to the closest approximation to the natural form. It is generally seen in cases like this, where someone has been impregnated while polyjuiced. Normally, however," her voice took on a slightly exasperated tone, "the drinker has been polyjuiced for longer than an hour! It's been used before by male couples to allow them to have a legitimate child."

Part of Harry, and it was quite a large part, desperately wanted to ask if there was a way, _any _way, to get rid of it. To turn back into a boy and pretend that it never happened. The rest of him, in a voice very much like him when he was younger and still holding out hope that he had family out there that would one day show up and take him away from the Dursleys, was snarling at the larger part. What kind of person would he be, the little part demanded, if he sentenced a completely new life to death just because he was a boy? No better than Voldemort, really.

So instead of demanding that Madame Pomfrey get rid of it, Harry remained silent, studying his reflection in the mirror.

His face looked, somehow, softer; with higher cheekbones, and slightly fuller lips. His hair was still a bird's nest, but that was only to be expected really. The real change, somehow, was his eyes. They seemed larger, more luminous really, and were framed by long, thick eyelashes.

With a sigh, he placed the mirror face down on his lap.

"Isn't there anything you can do?" He asked Madame Pomfrey, his voice cracking slightly. "I'm only fourteen. I can't be a father! And Voldemort just came back, too! What if he finds out!?"

A wave of her wand had the mirror vanishing, and Madame Pomfrey sighed deeply.

"I'm sorry Mister Potter, but there's nothing I can do. Magical birthrates are so low that there are laws in place preventing the termination of pregnancy. The best I could suggest would be to carry the child to term and then place it with another family." She smiled helplessly. "Do try to get some sleep, Mister Potter. You still have some healing to do."

And with that singularly obvious change of subject, the mediwitch vanished back into her office, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts.

* * *

><p>AN- Yes, I know that you don't get pregnant the second a man ejaculates. It usually takes between hours and days. Yes, I also know that it is statistically unlikely that a person will get pregnant the first time they ever have sex. Yes. I know that this is ridiculous and contrived. I don't care. I was in a bad mood when I wrote it, and when I'm in a bad mood, bad things happen to characters I like. I'm vindictive like that.<p> 


	2. Just Add Water to Me

It was simple enough, to swim. It was almost like flying. Gliding over the sandy sea floor. Watching the colorful flickering of fish in and amongst a coral reef. Even catching a glimpse of a pod of dolphins once or twice. It was, in a word, beautiful.

On the other hand, it was also very lonely.

Oh, don't get me wrong, becoming a mermaid is quite possibly the best thing to have ever happened to me. I just... sometimes I wish I weren't the only one, you know?

What do you mean, 'what?'.

... Oh. Didn't I mention? Well here, let me introduce myself. My name is Jeska Valle, I'm twenty-three years old, and I've been a mermaid since I was sixteen.

Yeah, seven years.

I suppose I might as well fill you in.

Basically, it's like this. Scattered all over the world are pools. These pools are always connected to the sea, and I think they tend to sit on nodes, places of extremely high magical concentration. Anyway, these pools have one main ability, and then several minor ones. The main one is to create mermaids; turning anyone who is soaking in one at the height of a full moon into a mermaid.

Full moons really seem to be a thing with the mermaid pools. A full moon makes a mermaid act drunk on a good night, and can grant uncontrolled, albeit temporary new powers. Sometimes a full moon viewed from a mermaid pool can suppress a mermaid's power completely, other times it can permanently boost the power granted.

It really seems to be a crapshoot.

And yeah, I've done a lot of experimenting. I've even met a couple of people who claim to be ex-mermaids. I've only got one thing to say to that. I am never, ever going to bathe in a mermaid pool during an eclipse. Solar or Lunar, just in case.

Anyway. So there are mermaid pools scattered all over the globe. Mine is the one on the coast of Oregon, in the US. I know that there's one further north on the same coast, somewhere in Canada or Alaska, just like there's one in South America, Japan, China, and South Korea.

I've been trying to map them, but I don't want a list of locations just sitting around, so I haven't written it down anywhere. This list'll die with me.

What was I talking about again? Oh yeah, the abilities of a mermaid pool. Turns you into a mermaid, for one, helps you help it protect the planet, for two, and grants you secondary abilities for three.

My secondary ability is healing. Also, bioluminescence. Yes, I can glow in the dark. It makes exploring down deep really cool.

I started traveling the world, looking for other mermaids and mermaid pools when I hit eighteen. No way was I going to stay at home any more. I started researching anything tangentially related to mermaids, sirens, or nymphs the second I figured out what had happened. In all honesty though, it didn't really do me much good.

Figuring out that I was bioluminescent was a huge help though. With that ability, I could dive so deep that there was no way even a glimmer of moonlight would reach me on full moons. Granted, at first I had to take either an air tank and mask down with me, or a rebreather. Now, however, I can stay down for just over ten hours before it starts getting uncomfortable. Considering that when I'd started I could go fifteen minutes, with no apnea training at all? I'd say that's pretty damn good.

What do you mean you don't believe me? Look. The average person can hold their breath for about thirty or forty seconds, right? Right. So if I, completely untrained and completely average in the breath holding department _before _I became a mermaid could hold my breath for fifteen minutes _after_ I became a mermaid, then it's fair to say that that's a good guess as average, right? Good.

Now, the outside limit of human breath holding is _twenty-two minutes._ And you can bet your ass that I didn't just stay at average. Not when having to surface to breath gets old pretty quickly and can make you miss a lot of awesome stuff. So. Average mermaid can hold her breath for fifteen minutes? Outside limit is somewhere around ten hours. Seems about right to me.

No, I've never been particularly good at math. Why do you ask?

Anyway, tonight's my last night in Indonesia. I'd better get my boat packed up. I'm heading to Australia next.

Of course I have a boat! Why on earth wouldn't I? It's not like I can just beach myself in some random place and be all, 'Hi, I'm a mermaid, got a towel?'

* * *

><p>AN- So, not in a bad mood this time, just worrying about something that shouldn't really be worried about. This is set in the H2O, Just Add Water series. Look it up, it's pretty cute. I don't usually write in first person. This is why. It tends to end up a bit more stream-of-consciousness than I usually prefer to read, and I write what I like to read.<p> 


End file.
